


Bond

by Evenseven



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: 5k words of...what's the plot?, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, English translation, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, and a lot of fluff, hints of mental health issues, just a little bit but be aware
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23648341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evenseven/pseuds/Evenseven
Summary: It was not quite the usual thing.OR,“Maybe one day we will,” He heard the Spaniard exhaled to calm down from sadness, “but for now, Stevie, we need to hold on and continue to do what we have been doing all these years…To live for the moment, to live for each other. And I’ll be with you, no matter the time and distance in between.”
Relationships: Xabi Alonso/Steven Gerrard
Kudos: 5





	Bond

**Author's Note:**

> I thought about adding accent indicators for Stevie but decided not to use it, in order to keep the fic flow better. Sorry for my bad writing and I've got no beta, as usual. :D
> 
> [中文原文](http://ltricker.lofter.com/post/27697b_12e0e5116)在Lof@Time Tricker，欢迎找我玩。

2022

“Yes, well, yes, this summer. No, that isn’t something I’m planning now…And other details will be announced by the club, I’ve got nothing more to say. Sorry, I have to take this other call…yes, thank you and goodbye.”

Steven Gerrard was pacing in his home in Liverpool, with all curtains tightly shut in the living room and all sunlight blocked outside. It’s only dawn but he collapsed back on the smokey-grey-colored sofa as he hanged up the fifth phone call of this morning. When was the last time I lay down on this sofa? He thought as he let out a deep sigh.

He sneaked back to Liverpool late last night, hiding under a baseball cap and wishing no one would recognize him. Yet some paparazzi still caught him on the photo getting picked up and drove home, so endless phone call spams followed this morning. Maybe it was indeed a bad idea, to go back home right at the same time of the official announcement, which stated he would be the first team coach for Liverpool next season. He still had a few days of holiday before the press conference, and he was supposed to take this time to get a good rest, to enjoy some fresh air of the city he loved, his home.

And now, he didn’t even dare to open the fucking curtain. He was deadly sure a lot of journalists were waiting right outside his windows with crazy big cameras and the thrill of getting a first headline. Now his days of freedom were ruined.

Why the hell would he want to get back home as soon as possible? He sighed once again, even the person who was most excited about the news, last name Carragher by the way, was still in London with his _best buddy_. Steven was considering some necessary communication with the club, and then heading to Madrid before the official press conference.

Madrid, what a dream, now I can’t even go out of my own house. Steven pouched the soft sofa surface with a tight fist, his mind wondered away to the over-exhilarated decision.

The biggest step forward in his coaching career, and he was almost jumping up and down when he first got the job offering from the club. His heart always belonged to that shade of red, it’s a fact that no one could deny, but whether it’s a good idea to take the job as the head coach, was a totally different decision of life. He deliberated for long enough and negotiated with the club a thousand times through calls and meetings, and he was still shaking in excitement when he finally decided to say a “yes.”

Joy, delirium, anticipation…All the emotions stuck at his throat, making him sweat and veins pumped way too fast, and at the end there was a strong wave of self-doubt smashing his brain.

Can I really do this? What if the fans don’t want me? What if I fail the glory history of a club I love so deeply?

Steven bit down on his lower lip, feeling nervous and a sharp ache drowning his left chest. Fucking anxiety, torturing him all these years and still following me everywhere…

As he staring at the ceiling not knowing what to do, the phone in his right hand started ringing again. He couldn’t help but cursed out loud, and who’s the stupid no-where journalist that somehow found his personal number this time? He held up the phone and glanced at the screen, the name shimmering there made him jump for real —

“Xabi”.

Oh God, he sat up straight and cleared his throat before answering the phone, what a great timing.

“Xabi! Love, I made all this effort to return to Liverpool and only to be trapped at my own house by paparazzi!” He eliminated all the unnecessary small talks.

“Stevie, relax,” the Spaniard on the other side answered with a calm tone, his English was always soft and comforting in an indescribable way, making his shouldered loosen up a little, “I know you’re nervous now, but don’t worry too much, okay? I’m here with you.”

What kind of superpower did Xabi Alonso have? He couldn’t explain, but when Xabi’s voice reached his ears, it seemed to have some sort of soothing power across time and space. Steven blinked a few times, feeling his racing heart settled down gradually. It sounded somewhat unbelievable, but after everything he and Xabi went through, he could be certain of it at this point: The long distance didn’t impair their connection even slightly, but rather turned every moment together more treasured and delightful.

“Thanks, Xabi…I-I want to see you, Xabi, let me see you.” He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the anxious feeling finally faded away.

“…Stevie, I’m in Madrid right now.”

“Jeez, Xabi!” He groaned out loud and fell back to the soda, “It’s fucking 2022, do you even know what a video call is? Just give me a video call!”

The other man laughed: “Stevie, I don’t need a video call to know that you’re defiantly lying on sofa right now…With all the journalists outside, you probably don’t even want to open the curtain?”

Steven sighed: “When did you set up hidden cameras in my house?”

Xabi answered him with more laughter, so Steven continued: “Honestly, is this Scopophobia thing still bothering you so much? Aren’t you the coach of the great _Los Blancos_ now? Aren’t there supposed to be hundreds of cameras pointing at you every match?”

“I’m the assistant coach, Stevie, all the cameras are pointing at Raul, no one would notice me.”

“If you say so…Xabi, I miss you.”

“Don’t worry, Stevie, I’m coming to Liverpool this weekend when I’m off duty.”

Steven jumped from his sofa again: “Promise?”

“Sí, amor…”

2021

Steven watched his lover resting on the edge of the giant jacuzzi, the Spaniard’s skin turned adorably pink under the hot steam. Maybe it’s the aftertaste of a crazy passionate sex that made Xabi look slightly more relaxed than usual, his short hair all wet and soft, his jaw rested on his own folded arms, and his eyes closed and Steven wondered what he was thinking. Steven stared at the water drops on the back of his neck and shoulders, the picture of a certain Spaniard biting his bottom lip to swallow back moans of pleasure rushed back into his brain. He could almost hear the heavy panting floating in the air that none of them would admit created, and he felt his whole body heating up again.

He couldn’t resist but hugging Xabi from behind, his fingers slowly wandering around Xabi’s waist. And how could anyone anticipating this man get fat after retiring? That’s totally bullshit! He let out a sigh before he found his tongue licking on the reddened skin of Xabi’s earlobe.

“Stevie…” Xabi replied in a hoarse voice without turning back, “I need some time to rest, you know, I’m getting old…”

“Getting old!” Steven glared at him, “I’m 18 months other than you!”

Xabi turned around in his arms, smiling: “Now that we’re talking…Honestly, isn’t it a bit too fancy to get you this gigantic jacuzzi? How rich is your club?”

“It’s call the victory banquet, Xabi, when you get the SPFL title for your club, they don’t mind get you a nice hotel suite after celebration party in return.” Steven winked at him.

“Congrats, Stevie,” Xabi leaned in and pressed a light kiss on his lips, “I knew you can do it…You’re a great player, as well as a great coach. League title and big jacuzzi, you deserve all of it.”

“I’m grateful for that,” Steven cupped his face with both hands, the red bread of the Spaniard poked at his palm, yet he couldn’t help but grasped a bit tighter, “But the thing I’m most grateful for…is never some titles or fame, or a grand hotel suite like this. It’s always you, my Xabi, my one and only soulmate.”

Xabi kissed him once again, this time with more zealousness, and Steven responded with the same passion _and_ his tongue. He felt a hand pressed on his left chest—where his soulmate’s name was inked. Maybe it was the tub water getting too hot, maybe it’s the rising temperature of Xabi’s fingers, or maybe it’s his own heartbeat racing fiercely, because he felt a intense wave of satisfaction in he left chest at the moment, even more than any shiny big cup could ever deliver.

2018

It was a special day and the whole Anfield was immersed in enjoyment and relaxation. To Steven, he didn’t know the chance of playing with Xabi again in Anfield would come so soon. And, it’s the first time ever they play in the opposite team as rivals in a proper match.

Although it’s only a charity match, he just couldn’t repress the excitement of this idea. Maybe it’s better this way, in a charity match, so they wouldn’t have the anxious and intense feeling of playing as rivals, and he wouldn’t need to tackle his lover, not that he actually had that decisiveness and courage to do so right now.

Inside the tunnel before the second half, everyone was lining up to get ready to return to the field. A certain Spaniard stood in line with the other team, wearing a dark blue Bayern shirt and a shiny smile, chatting with his teammates _in German_.

Steven walked towards him, reached out a hand to hug Xabi just like in a professional match. Xabi’s hand gently patted on his shoulder, but he didn’t say a word.

“Xabi, frankly speaking, it’s still very strange to see you in a Bayern shirt.” Steven twitched his lips.

“Yeah?” Xabi gave him a deliberate look, but also offered a smile, “So it’s not strange if I wear a Real Madrid shirt?”

“Actually, it’s even stranger in that…Xabi, you look better in red.”

“Oh, the Bayern home shirt is red. Next time when you’re invited to a charity match in Munich, you’ll see me wearing red for sure.”

Xabi winked at him and leaned in for a quick kiss on his cheek, and all Steven could do was a head-shake and a sigh. He walked back to his own team and started tidy up his shirt, when he suddenly heard a laugh from behind. It was Carra, he turned around and saw his good friend smirking at him, probably overheard the whole conversation.

“Eh,” Steven tried not to show any embarrassment, “don’t be too jealous.”

“Like hell I would…” Carra whispered in his ears, “But honestly, I’m still very curious, how on earth to you two keep this long-distant relationship going? Isn’t it hard as fuck to keep the psychic connection?”

Steven studied him carefully for a moment: “Well, Neville has taken off to Spain alone for a while, hasn’t he?”

Carra was definitely blushing but still glared back: “That’s why I dragged him back to Sky as soon as possible!”

Steven laughed: “Xabi and I…We’re sorta different.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.” Carra sighed, “Don’t you worry that someone may want to get a share of that Spaniard?”

“Xabi won’t do that.” He shrugged.

“Are you sure? Cos’ you see, he’s just such a popular bloke everywhere he goes…”

“It’s time to get on the field,Jay.” Steven covered his ears, “Sorry what was that? You know, I really don’t understand Manchester English…”

2014

“I saw your match.” Steven was sitting in the corner of s small bar, his fingers pressed tight on the ice-chilled glasses of beer. It was a much quieter place than all the other bars, and that’s why they used to like to hang out here sometimes. “It’s such a pleasant thing to do, watch you play, Xabi, you looked like you didn’t need any more time to fit in the team perfectly.”

“Pep trusts me, I’m glad. But I’ve got a lot to learn still, of course.” His tone was calm as usual, but the accent of his English was a bit off, probably a result from learning German or something.

“He likes you a lot, I can tell…” Steven took a sip as he heard some laughter from the other side of the phone, “I’m happy for you, really, Xabi. But I was just getting a bit more used to see you wearing Real Madrid shirt, and now this?”

“Lair,” Xabi replied with confidence and a slice of Sarcasm, “I know you have all of my recent photos in your phone, and you peek at them in the changing room a lot.”

Steven blushed to no one: “I knew it! You sat a spy in Liverpool’s changing room! Who’s that sneaky bastard?…Is it the new Spanish kid? I’m gonna teach him a good lesson for snitching on his captain…”

“Stevie!” Xabi raised his voice, “Be nice to Alberto!”

“No! I’m jealous!”

“I swear if you bully that kid, I’m gonna send Martin to kick your ass.”

“Martin’s really sweet, he’s not gonna kick my ass.”

“Oh, now _I’m_ the one that’s jealous.”

“And I’m jealous of Pep Guardiola, you like him and he likes you!”

Finally Xabi couldn’t hold back the laughter any more, so Steven joined him, and secretly thankful that no one’s around to witness this childish moment.

And there was a pause in silence, before he heard Xabi said quietly: “I miss you a lot.”

“I know, Xabs, I wish I could be with you now…” A tiny tingle of pain on his left chest restricted him from smiling, and he knew the man on the other side of this connection shared the same feeling.

“Maybe one day we will,” He heard the Spaniard exhaled to calm down from sadness, “but for now, Stevie, we need to hold on and continue to do what we have been doing all these years…To live for the moment, to live for each other. And I’ll be with you, no matter the time and distance in between.”

How lucky it was only a phone call, so Xabi wouldn’t see his flushed face, “God, you have all the mighty speech every time, and all I’ve got is moaning and cursing…No wonder everyone loves you, and no one loves me!”

“Well, I’m pretty sure there’s a Spaniard somewhere loves you to death, _mein Kapitän_.”

2009

“I don’t like seeing you wear Real Madrid shirt.”

Steven was not supposed to say this and he knew it, but the whole separation thing was way tougher than he thought. The man he used to hold in his embrace everyday, now could only be reached by fucking cellphone. He couldn’t stand the idea of seeing Xabi in another country, wearing another color shirt, and playing passionately for another club. They barely spoke in the last few weeks, Xabi was busy running around to settle the transfer, and all they had was a few text messages.

And now they finally had the chance to talk via phone, and all he could think of was the picture of Xabi smiling and hugging his new teammates, which was just shown on TV.

“…Stevie, we’re over this already.” The Spaniard’s voice was calm like nothing ever fucking happened between them, “You knew I couldn’t stay there anymore, and Real Madrid was my best choice. It’s a lovable team, and I fell in love with the team just like I felt in love with Liverpool.”

He hated these words and he hated the way Xabi said it, and rage was crashing his brain uncontrollably. 

How could he make it sound like everything was so easy? Like the past five years was just a dream in his head, like nothing between them was real? Like Xabi had walked away and found a new home, only him was left behind and wondering how he could ever get over this.

“How can you say that! You just fucked off to Madrid a few days ago and now you’ve dumped everything in Liverpool behind?”

“Steven Gerrard!” Xabi shouted out his name in fury, but paused right after the last syllable like he was trying to swallow all the anger back inside, “…It-it really made me sad that you put it like this, Stevie. I like Real, my heart is here at this moment. But you…out of everyone, you should know that there’s always a special place in my heart for Liverpool, no matter where I am and whether I’ll encounter it in a match, nothing can ever replace Liverpool, and you just… _¡Hostia!_

Whatever, I don’t wanna fight. If you don’t like watching me in Real shirt, then don’t fucking watch.”

It was like a bucket of ice-cold water splashing right into his face, the headache was almost unbearable, but Xabi hanged up the phone without giving him any time to respond. He stared blankly at the phone screen and felt the pain in his left chest hurting more than anything, like his heart was torn open. He tried to take a deep breath bot none of the oxygen came in.

What the fuck was I doing?

Steven asked himself a question that he didn’t know the answer, and reconsidered their conversation rationally this time. Xabi was right, and he was the pathetic, irrational, and angry bastard that was totally wrong about everything. Xabi Alonso was always fucking right, and sometimes he wished Xabi could be wrong just for once, and how the fuck did he manage to deliberate every single word before even articulate it?

Xabi was right, leaving Liverpool was his only choice, and Real Madrid sent in a decent offer that no one could turn down. After the dramas of the last year, even if Xabi wasn’t the kind of player that’s chasing only money and fame, he could do nothing but transfer to Real—A way out, bit with reasons and dignity. His love for Liverpool was never changed, and he should never accuse him for that. Xabi was loved by this club, by all the teammates and fans and he returned the same love to all of them.

He was sold like a proud product by the club when they needed the money, yet he never complain a single word about it. He said he understood the manager and the club’s decision, and he was willing to leave. He said it with a tranquil voice, and a pair of sorrowful eyes.

And now, he’s querying this deep love of his?

Steven cursed at himself a thousand times in hie head, and then got pulled back to reality by the sharp ache on his chest. The reality was, after the five precious yet difficult years together, they were separated for the first time, and the most scary part is that he couldn’t see an end to this separation.

Is it what they called fate? They’re meant to be in love, and then forced apart and cut off their precious connection. They’re meant to be separated from their soulmates.

Soulmates. This word winded up on his tongue, and Steven started to think about what it all meant—They’re facing a significant decision, to work through the obstacles together or end it for good.

Steven raised a hand to his left chest, and he knew the answer right at the moment of rising this question. He wasn’t sure what Xabi would say, but himself, Steven George Gerrard, was not able nor willing to leave his soulmate, to leave his dearest Xabi.

And it’s all my fucking fault, Steven stared at the ceiling as he lay down on his own sofa. The sharp ache seemed to better slightly, and he had started to think about how to apologize. When he was chewing over his words and sentences in his head, the phone he had just threw aside suddenly buzzed. He bit down on his lips as he opened the text messages from Xabi, so nervous that he almost forgot to breathe. The next moment all the anxiety vanished in thin air, his eyes soaked in hot tears as he read those two messages, couldn’t hold back the overwhelming emotions any longer:

“I’m sorry.”

“I love you.”

2008

Xabi stood silently by the window, looking at the scenery outside in which Steven couldn’t see. He stared at his lover’s profile just a few steps away, and he guessed whatever that scenery was, it’s not a pleasant thing to the eyes, since the Spaniard’s face was soaked in misery and doubt. Those eyes that used to be so lively and gentle, now were written only in fatigue.

Steven had never seen him like this before, pale and fragile like he was about to vanish in the Liverpool’s rain. He remembered the first time they met like yesterday, when Xabi was so energetic and curious about this new city, yet shy and sympathetic at the same time.

But the reality was different. Behind barriers and walls that he had built for himself, the melancholy and vulnerability were too heavy to disguise.

And Steven clearly knew the reason why.

The club wanted to sell him for money. Simple as that, they’re ready to deny everything he had done for the club in the past four years. Xabi’s heart was bleeding, and so did his own. But what could he really do for him? Nothing, only to watch his dearest love being tortured by the disappointment and uncertainty of the future.

There’s nothing they could’ve done.

“Stevie, it’s raining again.” Xabi’s voice was so soft that almost inaudible, his gaze never left the window, “How many days of this raining Liverpool left do you think I could see?”

He sounded too sad, so Steven reached his arms to hold him from the back, but he didn’t know what to say to comfort him. All the words faded into silence, nothing but darkness remained.

His left chest hurt like a bitch, and he knew where this ache came from. Xabi must be suffering a hundred times worse than him right now. He saw those curly dark-brown eyelashes flickering, something was about to come out but refrained at the very last moment.

He pressed his face onto the soft curve of Xabi’s shoulder, feeling his shallow breath as he sighed quietly: “I’m sorry, Xabi…It’s okay to cry if you feel like it.”

His words startled the Spaniard quite a bit, but one sharp inhale was enough for the man in his arms to repress all his feelings, which Steven had somewhat expected. Xabi bit down his lower lip for a while, trying to adjust his breath back to calm and normal: “No, Stevie, there’s nothing to be crying about.”

It’s not a healthy way to deal with problems, he wanted to say, but he got the final answer from Xabi already, and he understood what’s left unsaid just from listening to his slightly shaking breathing. He knew that Xabi believed that he could fight against all the emotions and weakness with rational judgement, so he could calculate carefully about the future road ahead.

“Xabi…I’m really sorry, I wish I could’ve done something for you, to make you feel better, but…I’m just useless in every way.”

“No,” He lover turned around to look at him, Xabi’s fingers climbed up to his jaw as he realizing those fingers are freezing cold, “you’re still with me, at least for now, and it’s the biggest comfort whether you want to believe it or not. Stevie, I-I’m about to lose everything, and you’re all I’ve got now.”

Don’t let me go, Stevie.

The words Xabi didn’t say, yet he heard every single syllable clearly.

I won’t let you go. He promised so in his head.

2005

“Stevie! Calm the fuck down, okay? Just look at me, Stevie, breathe…Don’t worry, we’re going to win this, we’re going to be the champion. You have to believe in the team, and believe in yourself.”

Steven’s eyes focused back on the sight in front of him, a pair of warm coffee-colored eyes and a subtle smile, they made him recover from hyperventilation and regain his reasons.

Big day’s coming tomorrow, and the last thing he should do was worrying about the match result. However, he found himself sitting on the edge of the hotel bed, sweating as if he’s in the middle of a sauna room, and his midfielder partner kenneling in front of him, grasping tightly on his trembling hands. He tried to calm his breath, walking through the routine of losing and regaining confidence just like before every big match. The armband shined more on his left arm, the heavier burden it was to be the leader. And sometimes it’s just easy to forget that he had such ability and credence inside himself.

Luckily, he had Xabi, who he reckoned was the most flawless perfection, there to remind him. Those gorgeous brown eyes gazed into his with faith and hope, firmly reassuring him that he could conquer anything as long as he believed in himself. 

I’m the luckiest man in the world, he thought as he flipped his hand to grab the Spaniard into a tight hug, and then the hug turned into a fervent kiss.

“You’re right, Xabi, we’ve made it to here now, and we have to have the faith in ourselves, and fight for the title with full strength,”

“That’s my captain, good lad. I believe in you and our team, no matter what.” Xabi sat back with him side by side, his shoulders loosened as his smile widened.

“God, I don’t know what to do without you…Thank you, Xabi, really.” He didn’t let go of his hand, his fingers slid to Xabi’s left wrist, feeling that patch of skin with his name inked on it heating up a little, warm as his left chest.

Steve couldn’t picture the days without Xabi any more, and this thought made the bittersweet tingled at the back of his tongue. How could he even holding up this fight without Xabi by his side? Not to mention the possibility of getting separate…

“You’ll be just fine, even without me,” Xabi paused for a second, “but I’ll be with you, until you finally get tired of me and…”

“I would never!” Steven almost screamed,“I can’t even started to imagine the future without you, Xabi Alonso, and I don’t wanna leave you even just for a second…No, I can’t even stand the idea of not being able to hold the big cup with you tomorrow!”

Before he fell back into the vortex of self-doubt again, Xabi’s hands cupped his face and forced him to look right into those caramel eyes.

“Don’t think about that, Stevie, think about trying our best instead.” Xabi bit his lip, as if he was considering whether he should say it or not, and he decided to let it out at the end, “And…If, we win the title at the end, I will…I will kiss you, in front of everyone.”

Steven’s eyes widened: “In front of cameras?”

Xabi replied while looking into his eyes, this time without hesitation: “Y-Yes, in front of cameras.”

“Xabi,” He felt the warmth in his left chest rising, and the best part was the Spaniard blushing like crazy, and that was a rare sight itself, “I love when you blush.”

“I’m not blushing, it’s—I have Scopophobia.”

He raised an eyebrow: “And where did you learn that word?”

“I read, okay?”

“Whatever you say…”Steven couldn’t help but burst into laughter, “I love you, you know that right?”

Xabi leaned in to find his lips: “No, Stevie, I think I love you more.”

2004

If there was ever a thing called love at first sight, he must experienced it when his eyes first laid on Xabi.

Although, Steven didn’t believe in love at first sight, and he thought he didn’t fell in love with Xabi at the first sight. He saw “love” as a mystery and noble word, and it was something far more complex and everlasting than a rush of blood and lust.

It was something more intense than the most intense split moment, something like heartbeats falling into the same line through their psychic connection. Like, soulmates for instance.

Morning sunlight sprinkled on the verdant grass of Anfield, and the changing room seemed to be filled by the gentle warmth of some fresh Spanish sunshine. They were only shaking hands, and Steven felt something heated but mellow slew his heart, a slice of emotion he had never felt before. He could sense the other man’s fingers shaking slightly as well, so he raised his eyes to plant his gaze into those gleaming caramel eyes for the very first time, as he was surprised by his own physiological reaction. A sense of excitement blocked his voice, like when the first time Balboa overlooking at the East coast of the Pacific with his feet sat on the mountain of Hispaniola, like when Handel sang out the first “Hallelujah” of Messiah after the darkness moment of his life, like when Sutter spotted the first gold nuggets out of sand in his Californian farm—Something changed inside him instantly, he knew it as he felt their heartbeats fell into the same line.

Steven knew right at that moment that the Spaniard standing in front of him was his soulmate. They were meant to be for each other, to entwine for the rest of their lives, as the ink of his left chest would tell him later. But right now, only searching inside those tender brown eyes, he had found enough of the answer already.

Just like that.

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Balboa, Handel, and Sutter are from _Decisive Moments in History(Sternstunden der Menschheit)_ by Stefan Zweig. You know, the tale about what Xabi read in the changing room before his 100th cap for Spanish NT (and then scored 2 goals in the game) ?
> 
> Also, if you read in reversed order you might get a different feel of the fic... :)


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